Sunday, May 04, 2008
While I was growing up there were a lot of "celebrations". We celebrated everything that was worth any sort of commemorating. Even unworthy events were sometimes honored. But at my house, going to school was a big deal. Every school achievement was a marked triumph. Don't get me wrong, my frugal parents rarely bribed us with money for good grades, but good grades were praised and lauded, and each graduation - kindergarten and college alike - were attended and enjoyed. Yup. My family knew how to celebrate a good education. You may have thought, if you were my childhood friend, that I was either an only child or from a family that hadn't heretofore had any high school graduates, so earnest and participatory were my parents.
So, going back to school for me is a really big deal. I bought a new bag (for my new laptop) and new pens and pencils and a new note book, and I even splurged and bought index cards just in case I would actually do anything in school other than "wing it". I picked out an outfit (side note: I didn't wear the outfit I had picked out so Brian, without prompt, ironed my favorite black, long-sleeved t-shirt so I would feel more comfortable - that was the sweetest thing). I curled my hair, I wore my favorite pair of heals, and didn't pack a lunch so I would have an excuse to go out if the other students were going some place for lunch.
Yep. It was a big deal. And as I flung my new bag with my new pens and new notebook over my shoulder, I felt exactly like I did when I was five and wearing white knee high socks, with brown Mary Jane's and a little plaid rap-around skirt and a buttoned down blouse (much to my chagrin, I hated blouses back then). And I still feel a little like I'm five. Kinda giddy, mostly corny, but really, really, really excited. And that's all that counts.